


Undercover

by felington



Category: Red vs. Blue, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, Yorkington
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1390987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felington/pseuds/felington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agents New York, Washington, North Dakota, and South Dakota are sent on a mission to investigate a suspicious figure living in the city. Wash doesn't know if he should cheer or cry when he finds out his going to be living with York. Having a crush on your best friend is a lot more difficult than it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover

**Author's Note:**

> I had a good idea for a fic so I'm attempting to write it. I'm not too sure if I'm any good at writing/if I should continue with this so opinions would be good. It's pretty short because it's more of an introduction than anything. This is set before any of the Freelancers have AI.

The dull glow of the leader board cast shadows over The Director's face exaggerating his stern features.Something felt so ominous about those glasses of his. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul after all, and who ever sees his? Wash shifted in his seat and tried to regain focus. This was not the time to wonder about his employer. He had given them everything and that's all that mattered for now.

“This mission will not be like your usual operations. It is for the purpose of observation, and observation only.” The Director stared at Wash, York, North, and South in turn as if trying bore the words right through their heads. “You are expected to lay-low and not draw any attention to yourselves. This task is of the utmost importance and I expect each of you to treat it so.”

“If this task is so important why isn't Number One coming with us?” South asked sounding somewhat annoyed.

“Agent Carolina is need elsewhere,” The Director snapped only to receive an eye-roll from South. Wash stole a glance at his gold-armoured friend. It was impossible to see if his expression changed under his helmet, however Wash would bet everything that it did. If York couldn't keep an eye on Carolina York was not pleased. Hell, he was probably itching to be near her right now. As much as Wash loved Carolina... He shook the thought from his head as so as it appeared. Carolina deserved York. Wash's feelings were not relevant.

  


The rest of the briefing went slowly. Way,  _way_ , too slowly. The moment the four agents stood in a neat line to salute their superiors couldn't have some sooner. The second they were dismissed they all practically ran to the kitchen. Due to training and meetings none of them had eaten since breakfast. North's stomach could be heard growling softly throughout the session regardless of how he shuffled to try mask the sound and Wash himself had reached the point of hunger where he felt physically ill.

“Dibs on the end of the Marshmallow Flakes!” York yelled.

Bursting through the kitchen doors ahead of York North shouted back something the sounded vaguely like “whatever”. By the time Wash caught up to them North and York were both at the small metal table eating and South was rummaging through the cupboard. York skipped milk, bowls and spoons in favour of eating directly from The Pumpkin Pete's box with his hands.

“You're so slow,” York laughed through a mouthful of food.

Ignoring him Wash grabbed an apple, banana and two oranges. Looking for something else to eat sounded exhausting. They ate in silence too hungry to care about polite chitchat. Not that 'polite' was high on the list of the Freelancer's priorities to begin with. It was York who spoke first after he tipped the last of the flakes into his mouth straight from the box. “Never thought I'd see the day I'd spend 5 weeks away from this place.” 

It occurred to Wash to ask “what about when you leave this job?” but as soon as he thought it he realised the answer. To be honest, he never thought he'd make it out of Project Freelancer alive either.

“Looks like we're going to be roomies,” Wash offered lamely.

“Hell yeah we are!” York beamed.

Across the table North flicked through various files on a small handheld device. “Your apartment is the floor above mine and South's, I think.”

“So, Wash,” a wide grin danced across South's lips as she spoke,”How are you going to survive wearing only 'civilian clothes' for 5 weeks?”

North lowered his head to try hide his smile and he could see York sniggering out of the corner of his eye. Wash felt the heat rise to his face.  _Here we go_.

“I've heard rumours that you sometimes sleep with it on,” York said clearly trying to hold in his giggles.

“It's comfortable!”

The others burst into hysterical laughter. How many times are they going to bring this up? Was it really that weird that he felt more secure wearing his armour? If anything that made perfect sense; it  _is_  bullet proof after all.

“Fuck you guys, I'm going to bed.”

With that Wash pushed himself up from his chair.

“Why not just sleep here? I mean, you're already dressed,” York called after him followed by another fit of laughter.

  


  


Hours later, when Wash was tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep ( _without_ his armour) someone crept into his quarters. Of course, he shot up immediately, ready to fight the intruder.

“Dude, it's me! It's me!”

“York?”

Wash squinted through the darkness but could barely make out his friend's face. He put a finger to his lips and pointed to C.T. who was sleeping soundly on the other side of the room. Taking the hint York tiptoed back out and gestured for Wash to follow. It wasn't until after he clicked the door shut behind him, and after he saw York's smirk, that Wash realised he just walked out into the hall wearing nothing but boxers. Fantastic.

“So... What's up?”

“York, it's 4:30 am.”

“I couldn't sleep, and I thought I heard you moving so I came to say hi.”

Wash raised his eyebrows wondering to himself if his friend really could hear him moving through the wall separating their quarters.

“...And,” York continued his voice softer than before, “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

The cold hallway made it impossible for Wash to ignore that he was still practically naked. The same thing could be said for York's gaze which drifted downwards from time to time as he spoke. This is exactly the kind of situation Wash had embarrassing 14-year-oldesque daydreams about.

“York, I fight some of the best trained fighters in the world on a daily bases." Wash started, pretending not to notice the wandering eyes. "I'm lucky if by the end of the day I only have some bruises to show for it. I've had bones broken, I've been hit so hard I was unconscious for over a week, I was even  _stabbed_  once and that's all before I ever leave the training room. I  _think_ I can handle you guys making fun of me.”

York's eyes settled on the scar that graced Wash's left shoulder. “Carolina gets a bit carried away sometimes.”

“A bit?” Wash chuckled shaking his head. “Ironically she's the one who saved me from bleeding out.”

A few seconds of silence passed where they both seemed to gaze into the distance remembering the whole incident. There wasn't anything special about that day, just the usual training, drills, and one-on-one matches. Honestly Wash didn't think he would come out of that match with Carolina unharmed but he didn't exactly expect to come out with a stab wound either. As soon as it happened Carolina froze realizing her mistake. She screamed again and again at F.I.L.S.S. to send a medical team but received no reply. No one else was to be seen and Wash's consciousness was beginning to slip away. The last thing he remembered was Carolina tying some kind of fabric around the wound, and an overwhelming sense of pain as paint from her gun hit his shoulder. Next thing he knew he was in the hospital wing with medics standing over him.

“You know,” York said finally, “I think that's the only time we've ever had an issue with F.I.L.S.S.”

“Of course it was.” Wash rolled his eyes, “She hates me!”

York laughed heartily. “It's a computer program, Wash. It's incapable of hating you.”

Wash sighed while an exasperated expression took over his features. Again York chuckled at him. “So you sure you're okay?”

“Yes I'm  _fine._  Since when do you care so much about my feelings anyway?”

“Goodnight, Wash.” York smiled as he began retreating to his room.

He stopped suddenly and turned to look at Wash. With a smirk York looked him up and down once more, winked and said “Maybe we should tease you about your armour more often.” before disappearing into him room.

  


Living with York wasn't going to be easy was it?


End file.
